


searching

by quitethesardonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Love, Parallel Universes, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quitethesardonic/pseuds/quitethesardonic
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle awoke in a world in which he did not belong. He becomes entangled with a witch named Hermione Granger who wants him gone sooner rather than later. He falls in love, and it's quite unfortunate.ORTom Marvolo Riddle was not a man who begged until he was given a real reason to.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 23
Kudos: 336





	1. lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/gifts).



> Weestarmeggie and I were talking the other day and she said to me, "Tom Riddle does not beg," to which I thought...until he does. So, here we are with my first story of 2020. This story is a gift to her for inspiring me to write again after a period of bad writer's block. :) I hope you all enjoy it.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was not a man who begged. 

He did not beg to be adopted, although the desire to be a part of a family had once interested him briefly.

He did not beg to fit in when he entered Hogwarts and then realized he was still considered different from the rest. He simply forced those around him to accommodate him. 

He did not beg his paternal family to accept him when he realized that they knew of his existence all along — they just didn’t care about him. No, he did not beg. He simply killed them. 

He almost begged Dumbledore to let him return as a professor. Almost being the operative word. Rather, Tom swallowed the word “please” down his throat like an unpleasant shot of firewhiskey and left the grounds. He’d return to the only place he called home another way. 

And he did. 

~~ What he found during his second time around turned him into a man who begged. ~~

* * *

“Mr. Riddle!” A Scottish voice scolded.    


Tom jerked awake and sat up straight, willing his cheeks to not turn red as his peers giggled. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, taking in his surroundings. He recognized where he was immediately, seeing as he had spent seven years learning Transfiguration under the tutelage of Professor Dumbledore in this same classroom. What Tom didn’t understand was what he was doing here at Hogwarts after two years of graduating.

“10 points from Slytherin!” The voice continued. “I would hope that as Head Boy you would refrain from napping in my class.” 

Tom cleared his throat, completely bewildered. “My apologies, Professor.” 

He watched as the tall woman with the severe bun sniffed disdainfully at him before returning to the day’s lessons.

* * *

Tom was glad to find out that Transfiguration was his last class of the day while he pretended as if this was a place that he belonged to. He made his way to where the Head Suite was during his own time, searching for the mirror that served as the entrance.

When Tom found it, he stared at his reflection, recognizing that he looked younger than he did the night before when he fell asleep. 

“Tom?” He turned towards the voice and watched as a petite witch with a wild mane for her hair walked towards him. He noted the Head Girl badge pinned to her robes. “Is everything alright? I missed you at dinner and heard that you fell asleep in Professor McGonagall’s class.” 

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” he lied. She gave him a look. 

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that,” she responded before she stood beside him in front of the mirror. She made eye contact with him through the mirror and smiled sweetly at him before looking at herself. “Hermione Granger,” she stated clearly. 

The mirror shimmered before it revealed an entryway. 

“Ladies first,” he gestured towards the Head Common Room. Again, she gave him a look before she shrugged and walked in. 

“Tea, Tom?” She asked, heading towards the kitchenette and putting a kettle on the stove. 

“Yes, please.” 

Tom sat on his favorite sitting chair (some things never changed) and tried to get a grasp on what was going on.

For once in his life, Tom had no idea. It seemed as though he had awakened in a parallel universe or was stuck in a dream about his time at Hogwarts. The former was a little ridiculous but it made much more sense than the latter. Tom had not recognized a single one of his professors, save for Professor Binns, nor his peers, although some resembled those that he attended Hogwarts with. 

So, a parallel universe made more sense than his subconscious creating hundreds of new people to play various roles in his dream. Much more sense. 

Hermione interrupted his musings as she proffered him a mug of steaming tea. He accepted the mug and waited for her to take a seat before he took a sip. She watched him through narrowed eyes as he swallowed the first sip. Tom was pleasantly surprised when the tea was just as sweet as he liked. 

Hermione leaned back in her seat and drank from her cup before she spoke. “So, you have the same taste buds as him it seems. Anyone with a normal palate would have spat that sugary concoction out as soon as they tasted it.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Tom wasn’t one for panicking and slowly reached for his wand, gripping it loosely in his hand. He wasn’t sure if she was a threat yet.

“I woke up beside you this morning,  _ love _ , and you said you slept just fine. Now, I thought that you were maybe Harry or even Draco pulling a prank on me since you didn’t give me a kiss when you saw me but then you drank the tea. Harry drinks his with two spoons of sugar, and Draco takes his tea without any sugar, but a splash of milk. You put at least five spoons of sugar in your tea, which I still believe is disgusting no matter what you say.” 

She took another sip from her own mug and continued before Tom could respond. “So I assume you’re some weird version of my boyfriend. Although you are just as handsome and probably just as smart, I would prefer having him here instead of you. If you could, please go back to where ever you came from --” 

“I don’t know how I got here,” Tom interrupted the witch, prompting her to arch an eyebrow at him. She didn’t reply which gave him time to recollect his thoughts. 

It seemed that he was, indeed, in a parallel universe. His alternative-self was dating a clever witch who was currently twirling her wand and sipping her tea. How he got here was still a mystery to him, but -- 

“Are you going to continue or are you just going to stare at me?” She snapped in irritation.

She was both clever and spirited. It seems that Other-Tom has taste, too. 

“What was your name again?” he asked. 

“Hermione Granger,” she sighed in exasperation. “Now, do tell.” 

Tom leaned back in his chair and eyed her wand. “I believe that I come from a parallel universe.”

“Obviously.” 

He glared at her. Clever, spirited, and a pain in the ass. How did Other-Tom stand her? 

“In my universe, I’ve already graduated. I was also Head Boy and when I graduated, I worked for Borgin & Burkes. I don’t know how aligned my life there is with Other-Tom’s --” 

“Technically,” she interrupted. “You’re Other-Tom.”

“Could you stop interrupting me, witch?” He asked in clear annoyance. 

Hermione scoffed at him. “Don’t call me ‘ _ witch _ ’ with that tone, you sexist --” 

“I apologize,” Tom forced out, certain that she would begin a tirade if he didn’t. “I misspoke.”

She harrumphed before she motioned for him to continue. “As I was saying, I don’t know how aligned our lives are, so perhaps you can give me a quick background.”

There was silence, and the two of them stared at each other. Tom took her in, noting her delicate frame and features. She was quite pretty, beautiful actually. The most charming of her physical assets were her eyes which were the color of rich soil, expressive as she unabashedly stared at him. Like she was familiar with him. 

He supposed that she already was. 

She exhaled loudly, drawing him from his reverie. In a perfunctory tone, Hermione began.“Your mother was Merope Gaunt, and your father was Tom Riddle Sr. You grew up in Woolen Orphanage where you were bullied before you became the bully. We met because you’re Harry Potter’s adopted brother, and Harry and I are best friends. You discovered that you were the Heir of Slytherin and distanced yourself from the Potter family until fourth year when some idiot put Harry’s name in the Tri-Wizard Cup.”

Hermione then smiled fondly and took another sip of tea. “You asked me to the Yule Ball that year, but I had already agreed to go with Viktor Krum. I believe he mysteriously fell down the stairs the day of the ball and was unable to escort me. It was quite a coincidence that you were there without a date at all. Fast forward to fifth year, you opened the Chamber of Secrets and accidentally killed Myrtle Warren. I became...an accomplice and helped you with covering it up.”

“And what about sixth year?” He asked. He had killed his grandparents and father the summer before. 

Hermione gave him another smile, and it was predatory. A shiver crept up his spine, and he marveled at the partner that Other-Tom had chosen.

“You located your paternal family and your maternal uncle during winter break,” she answered. “You tried to murder them all but I convinced you otherwise.” 

“You convinced me?”

“My Tom and I have plans, Other-Tom,” she gave a delicate sniff before she got up and headed toward the kitchenette, pouring herself another cup of tea. “One murder, accident or not, is forgivable and easily concealed from the general public. But a total of five? Absolutely not. The only reason why you and I were able to get away with Myrtle’s death is because the Potters and the Blacks protected us. If it weren’t for them, Dumbledore would have had us removed.” 

“But what about --” He stopped, unsure if Other-Tom had thought of Horcruxes. 

“But what about your Horcruxes?” Hermione gave a snort and shook her head. “What fools, both of you. Have you no one to confide within your world, Other-Tom? I looked into it, and my Tom and I argued over it. The risks outweigh the benefits. It’s almost reckless to create something like that. We’re looking into other means. Which brings me back to my original point. I want my Tom back, and I want him back  _ now _ .”

“As I’ve said,  _ Hermione _ , the manner in which I came to be here is not clear to me.”

She leaned against the counter and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. “So you’ve told me.” She opened her eyes and stared straight at him. “Whatever. We’ll hit the stacks starting tomorrow morning. You seem sharp enough. Make sure you don’t ruin my Tom’s grades while we figure this out. It’s about to be N.E.W.T. 's season, and he’ll be rightly pissed if he returns to find that he’s received Trolls in all his classes. Let me give you the rundown on how this all goes. There’s much that is different.”


	2. found

Tom spent every waking moment with Hermione, dedicating time to his studies, researching parallel universes in the library, and learning about the circle that he ran with. He was initially uncomfortable with the level of affection shared between himself and Other-Tom’s witch, but she made it clear that it was non-negotiable.

“We’ve been together since fourth year, Other-Tom,” Hermione explained patiently the first time he pulled his hand out of her  ~~ remarkably soft and small ~~ hand in surprise. She gently took his hand into hers again and threaded their fingers together. “It’d look odd if we stopped acting like a couple unless we break up, but that means you might be discovered much more quickly. I don’t want the Ministry to know about you, and we don’t want unnecessary attention to unearth the darker things my Tom and I have done.”

He greeted her with a chaste kiss on her cheek each time they crossed paths and learned that Other-Tom carried her books to the many classes they took together. Tom watched in amusement as she eagerly raised her hand in each class to answer questions posed by their professors, earning points for her house of Gryffindor. 

The butterflies that fluttered in his stomach three weeks in were largely ignored, and he absolutely did not fall asleep thinking of her kisses at all. 

Tom wasn’t quite sure what to make of this universe that he currently resided in and the life that Other-Tom lived.

* * *

Five weeks in, Hermione showed up in his room while he was getting ready for bed. 

“I thought you retired to bed an hour ago?” He asked. 

She shifted nervously as she looked at him. “I’m not quite used to sleeping alone. Madam Pomfrey refuses to give me any more sleeping potions, and I don’t have the ingredients to brew it yet,” she stated quietly. “I -- I know that you’re not my Tom, but do you mind if I stay with you tonight? There’s just that quiz tomorrow --” 

He stopped her, hating instantly the shy manner in which she was conducting herself. The Hermione Granger that he came to know was confident and a force to be reckoned with. “Come on, Hermione. Don’t worry about it.” 

Hermione flashed him a smile ~~ , and he felt his heart rate speed up ~~ as she came over and settled in his bed. “Thank you. Goodnight...Tom.” 

Tom slid in beside her, ignoring the heat that radiated from her. “Goodnight, Hermione,” he responded. 

Falling asleep proved to be very difficult for him that night, and it wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that he finally fell asleep. Tom woke up alone, but he dreamt of holding Hermione in his arms while he slept. The phantom feel of her in his arms felt much more real than he dared to admit.

* * *

“I wonder if anyone else has noticed the differences between you and my Tom,” she remarked one day. He arched an eyebrow at her as she continued. “The both of you have a dark streak, except my Tom tried to hide it as best as he could. I think it has to do with the Potters adopting my Tom when he was 9. He tries so hard to fit into that family and to earn their love. They give it to him unconditionally, but he still worries that one day, they’ll wake up and change their mind.”

She reached a hand up to cup his cheek. Tom covered hers with his own and leaned into her warmth.

“You, on the other hand,” Hermione continued, “don’t care as much about what people see. You’re much surer of yourself. It might be that you’re technically older, but the laissez-faire attitude lends you an even darker aura. Both of you are dark, but he was much more cautious about showing it. However, the two of you know how to work people and make them fall for you.”

Tom gave her a small smile at that. Hermione stared at him for a second before she jerked her hand away, as if realizing what she’d done. Her face flushed brightly, and she took a step back. “I’m - I’m so sorry, Tom, I wasn’t thinking and I - ”

“It’s okay,” he consoled her. He didn’t mind the affection at all, didn’t mind that she was seeing  _ him _ rather than Other-Tom. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Tom was a liar.

* * *

She came home from a celebratory Quidditch party in the Gryffindor Common Rooms drunk while he stayed in theirs to continue their research. 

Hermione stared at him from the entrance of their Common Room before she made her way over to him, standing before his seated figure. Without saying anything, her bottom lip started to tremble, and her eyes pooled with tears. Tom looked on in alarm before he pulled Hermione into his lap and held her close to him. She looped her arms around his neck and placed her face against his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, running his hand down her back. 

“What if my Tom never comes back to me?” She hiccuped in despair. “What if he’s stuck in some limbo or your world all alone?”

“We’ll figure it out, Hermione,” he reassured her. 

“I feel like I’m betraying him!” She cried, reeling back and looking at Tom. Her beautiful eyes were puffy and swollen. “I’m here, holding your hand and kissing you for the masses while he’s,  _ Merlin knows where _ ! Did I make the right decision in making you pretend that you’re my Tom? I just -- I don’t  _ know _ .” 

“Well,” Tom began. “Seeing as I’m basically him, I will tell you that I wouldn’t mind if it was the other way around.” 

Hermione gave a mirthless laugh. “When did you become such a shite liar? You and I both know that no matter which world Tom Riddle comes from, that he does not like sharing anything that is considered his.” 

Tom had nothing to say in response because he knew that if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to share anyone as special as Hermione with anyone else. He also knew that he’d tear through space and time to be by her side.

* * *

“I love you,” he murmured to her quietly, when it was just the two of them in the library during the Easter break. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to him. He watched in silence as her face grew pale.

There were a few moments of tense silence as she stared at him before she clenched her jaw and rolled her shoulders back. 

“No,” she stated firmly. “You cannot. I’m not yours to love,  _ Other-Tom _ .” 

Tom paid no mind to the sharp pain in his chest at her words. She hadn’t called him Other-Tom in months. Instead, he gave her a brief nod and returned to their  ~~ useless ~~ research as if he had not said a thing. 

* * *

Tom awoke with a start. As quickly as he opened his eyes, he snapped them shut just as fast. He was a bright, white room that seemed to stretch on for miles. He was sitting in a chair and was bound to it by unseen chains, restraining him at his wrists and ankles. 

“There’s no use,” someone stated matter-of-factly. Tom physically recoiled when he opened his eyes and saw three old women without their eyes looking toward him. “There is no escaping until we release you, Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

“Who are you?” He demanded, squinting his eyes. 

“ _ We _ are the Fates,” they answered together. “We noticed an imbalance in the cosmos and came to investigate which led us to you.”

The one on the left approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “ _ You _ ,” she rasped, pulling him by his chin and peering at him, “who does not  _ belong _ .” 

“Yes,” another agreed as she stroked her chin. “He does not. He must be placed back in his world  _ soon _ .”

“No, please,” Tom begged, the word foreign on his lips. He pulled his chin from the hag’s grasp and swallowed. “I want to stay,” he stated more firmly. “I love her. I can’t --” 

“No,” the third said softly, interrupting him. “You do not belong in this world, and therefore you must be returned to your own. We will not and cannot have you stay here any longer. Your presence threatens the cosmos.” 

“We have decided,” the three of them said in unison, their voices blurring together. “You shall be returned to your world immediately and when you awaken, your memories of your time in this universe will feel like a dream.” 

“No! Please! Please, please,  _ please! _ ” he implored again. “I’ll do anything, just don’t take me away from her.” 

Tom Riddle was not a man who begged, and he hoped that the one time that he did, it would work. 

However, the Fates did not respond. They simply approached him as Tom struggled against the invisible bonds. He was desperate, and he was angry, and he wanted nothing more than to  _ stay _ . 

_ I love you, Hermione Granger _ , _ and I will find you in my own world,  _ he vowed to himself 

The Fates touched his forehead, and there was nothing but darkness and heartache. 

* * *

Tom was having weird dreams as of late.

In these dreams, he was in love with a witch who was clever, spirited, and a pain in his arse. She was loyal, and she loved him for who he was without any reservations. She argued with him about everything and forced him to reconsider the ways in which he viewed the world. 

He hated these dreams, and no matter what he did, he dreamt of her and her brown eyes each and every night. 

What he hated the most was how he woke up every morning missing someone that he never even met and was certain couldn’t exist. 

* * *

Tom no longer wanted to create seven Horcruxes. He had two, and that was more than enough. Something about making more didn’t sit right with him. It felt reckless. 

* * *

Tom was closing up Borgin & Burkes to head to Hepzibah Smith’s home when the front door opened, prompting the bell to ring. 

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid that we are closed,” he said without looking up.

“I apologize, Mister . . .” 

Tom looked up and froze. It was the witch from his dreams. She stood in the doorway, wearing a velvety, forest green cloak. Her brown eyes were wide, and her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink from the chill outside. 

His heart began to thrum a little bit faster. 

Tom cleared his throat and put down his briefcase. “Tom Riddle,” he supplied. She flashed him a bright smile and something familiar shifted in him. 

“Hello, Mr. Riddle,” she greeted. “My name is Hermione Granger. This might sound odd, but you’ve been appearing in my dreams, and I would really like to get to the bottom of this.” 

He cocked his head to the side and slowly approached her until they were a hairsbreadth apart. He clenched his fists to prevent himself from touching her, but she reached up and placed her hand against his cheek. 

“How funny,” he murmured, leaning into her touch. “Me too.”

_ fin. _


End file.
